


Last of the American Boys

by Newtdew25



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartenders, Gay Bar, Karaoke, M/M, Secret Identity, Stuttering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 16:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7275724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtdew25/pseuds/Newtdew25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt owns and works at the Brownstone Lodge, the only gay bar in his little part of the world. One night, a stranger drops by with a fair bit of insecurity and an unconventional karaoke request. Newt is more than happy to help with both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last of the American Boys

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've finally updated again (and it's Newtmas, to boot)! I may or may not turn this into a series, depending on if I have the inspiration to. 
> 
> The title is a reference to the song "Last of the American Girls" by Green Day, with the switch made to fit the Newtmas better.

            “E-Excuse me? I was wondering h-how I could sing some karaoke.”

            The voice was so quiet that Newt almost didn’t hear it. He only looked up from the glass he was wiping down when the person talking to him cleared their throat. “Huh? Oh, yeah, lemme grab this… right here,” he grunted as he handed the guy a booklet he kept behind the bar. “Just wait ‘till the Valli wannabee up there’s done.” At that moment, the clearly drunk singer was looking over at the bar, directing the lyrics to Newt. “Dante… Or was it Jaime? I can’t remember what he called himself. Doesn’t matter, he should be done soon.”

            He went back to sorting out the glasses he had dried off. It was only a matter of time before the next surge of giddy twinks and closeted frats who came with their “friends” arrived and he’d be busy again. “Well, what’re you waiting for? If you wait too long, I’ll have to let someone else go before you.” The boy was still standing in front of him with the song book, drumming his free fingers on an empty bar stool. “I don’t know if I c-can. I mean, am I even allowed to sing this kind of stuff at a gay bar? People just wanna have a good t-time and I don’t want to kill the m-mood,” he muttered, looking at his sneakers.

            Newt glanced around the bar. At the moment, it was fairly empty save for a few couples and groups here and there, most of them familiar with him. Since the Brownstone Lodge was a fair distance away from the clubs of the city, he was friendly with his usual patrons. He envisioned the bar not as a place for hookups, but rather, a safe space for the LGBT community of New Haven. To make it more inclusive, he only rolled out the alcohol after 9 P.M so that teenagers could also feel welcome. It was the sort of place he wished existed when he was younger and unsure of where he would be accepted.

            “Trust me, mate; we’re a pretty mellow bunch around here. As long as you don’t choose anything too offensive, you’ll be fine. What’re you planning to sing, anyways?” The guy held out the songbook and pointed to one of the columns, still avoiding Newt’s eyes. His arm was shaking a fair bit; was he always this nervous around strangers? Or was it the atmosphere? He was dressed more conservatively in a grey button-down and plain black jeans, so perhaps he felt out of place next to the bright colors and ripped sleeves of the other patrons.

            While he was still searching for the song, the guy put the booklet down. “This was stupid, I should just g-go,” he said as he headed for the door. Newt rushed out the side of the bar to catch up with the stranger. “Wait, wait! You don’t have to go,” he reassured the guy as he stood in front of him. “If there’s something on your mind, you can say it. We don’t judge here in the Lodge.” They were silent for a moment, the other customers carrying on with their own conversations. Finally, there was a break.

“Thomas. M-My name’s Thomas, and I don’t k-know anyone here so I should be really confident, b-but I’m not. I thought going to a g-gay bar would help my self-esteem a bit, but it’s only m-made me feel more alone. N-Never mind that; I’ll just c-come back some other time. Maybe.”

The guy, no, Thomas, was red in the face as if his introduction had taken all of his willpower to get through. He looked directly at Newt for the first time since they met, and there was a mix of fear, worry, and naivety in his eyes. Clearly, something had happened to him in the past that made him so… skittery. _“God knows what some people go through ‘fore you meet them,”_ Newt thought to himself.

He quickly looked back at the makeshift stage he set up towards the back of the Lodge. Whatshisname had left some time ago, and it didn’t seem like anyone else was going up. “Alright Thomas, how ‘bout I introduce you before you sing? That way, you won’t feel as pressured by the crowd.” Thomas still looked wary, but nodded anyways. “Th-Thank you, uh…”

“Newt, my name’s Newt.”

“Seriously? Who n-names their kid-“

“Yeah, I know. I get that a lot.”

“But why would they-“

“I’d ask ‘em if I could,” he bluntly whispered as he stepped up onto the stage. “Alright guys, it’s only this next singer’s first time singing here, so let’s make him feel welcome, yeah?” The two dozen or so people present nodded and started applauding, so Newt gestured for Thomas to approach the microphone. “This here’s Thomas, and he’ll be singing... er...”

Newt pulled Thomas back a bit. “What’re you singing again?” The other boy leaned in to whisper something in his ear. “Oh, really? Well, that’s quite the choice, Tommy.”

“Tommy?”

“Why not? Thomas sounds too... what’s the word, official. It’s the kind of name a CEO or something would have.” Thomas laughed quietly, smiling for what Newt was sure was the first time that night. “Are you really making f-fun of my n-name?”

“Oh, c’mon; you did the same thing to me not even two minutes ago,” he shot back as he led Thomas back to the microphone. “Now just wait ‘till I start up the music. I’ll give you the signal, then blow us all away.” Thomas turned to move away, but then stopped. “Wait, w-was that a-“

“Yes it was. Now get going!” Newt chuckled as he went down to set up the backing track. “Your audience is waiting for you.” Thomas wasn’t kidding when he said that his song choice wasn’t conventionally heard at gay bars. In fact, Newt had to connect the speakers to the bar’s computer and go to Youtube since it wasn’t in the song database that the McKee-Paratas recommended he use for karaoke. Given, more than half of the songs were ones that Chester used during his days as the (semi) famous drag queen Chanel Supreme, but this was the first time he had to manually find a new song.

As soon as the sound of electric guitar came through the speakers, Thomas transformed in to someone else entirely. He lost his shy, timid stance and stood up straight. A fierce look of hunger and exhilaration filled his eyes as he grabbed the stand. With the first lyrics, he even lost his stutter and sang in the kind of passionate, rough voice you’d hear from a college rock band frontman.

_“Where have all the bastards gone?_  
_The underbelly stacks up ten high,_  
_The dummy failed the crash test,_  
_Collecting unemployment checks_  
_Like a flunkie along for the ride”_

Newt grinned as he watched Thomas look around the bar, obviously pouring all of his energy and heart into the song. There was a natural aura of rage and fire around him, and it certainly caught the attention of the others. While some people turned back to their own matters, most of the bar was intently watching this stranger belt out such an unconventional song.

_“You're not the Jesus of Suburbia;_  
_The St. Jimmy is a figment of_  
_Your father's rage and your mother's love_  
_Made me the idiot America”_

            Thomas’ voice was particularly bitter and harsh, as if there was someone this song was meant for, but would never get to hear it. The entirety of the song was like a massive explosion of emotion; all of this pent-up frustration and angst finally being let free. Newt could barely hear Thomas (who sounded strangely familiar) over the sound of cheering and even a voice or two singing along. It was only when he turned away for a moment that he realized that his usual crowd had now arrived and were lining up through the door (whether it was to hear what was going on or just to get in, he couldn’t tell).

            While Newt was taking orders and grabbing bottles off the wall, Thomas came back behind the bar. The customers sitting there looked him over, and some of them waved or grinned coyly at him; that was to be expected. What was unexpected was the way that Thomas hugged Newt from the side, nearly causing him to drop the shot glasses he was about to set down.

            “Th-Thank you,” he whispered close enough so that Newt could hear over the noise. “I really needed to let off some st-steam.” His voice was muffled by Newt’s shirt and his nose was pressed into his collarbone. If Newt could trust his sense of touch, Thomas was also crying a bit, his tears soft and wet against his skin. “Listen, Tommy, it’s no problem. You’re welcome here anytime,” he replied, using his free hand to rub the back of Thomas’ neck.

            A few moments later, Thomas broke away from Newt and rubbed a few stray tears from his eyes. “Yeah, s-sure thing; I’ll drop by if I’ve got the time. G-Give me a call when you’re free, w-would you?” Newt nodded, not quite sure what he meant. It was only once he had let Alby take over for the night and got home that he realized that tips and traces of cheap cologne weren’t the only things he took with him.

            “I swear, if it’s another...“ he muttered to himself when he felt something in his pocket. But it wasn’t a condom or stick of gum like he had suspected. Instead, he pulled out a folded-up sticky note. Newt sat down at his kitchen counter and laid out the note, which had a guitar pick inside.

            _“Dear Newt,”_ he read _. “Thank you for being patient with me and giving me the chance to be myself. I’m sorry about leaving early, but I had a feeling that some of the others at the Lodge were watching me a bit too closely. Anyways, I had a great time tonight; maybe we can meet up sometime in the future?”_ Below the note were a number and a stamped logo, the same one that was on the guitar pick.

            “ _Thomas Daniels, lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of The Glade City Scouts.”_

“Holy shit; the world’s most innocent Christian rocker just came to my gay bar.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The songs mentioned in this fic are:
> 
> "Can't Take My Eyes of Off You" by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons  
> "Letterbomb" by Green Day
> 
> Kudos, comments, or suggestions would be greatly appreciated!


End file.
